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The last two months have been tough. While crafting my dissertation proposal and beginning to finish my Ph.D., I’ve tried to maintain Frugaling and prepare for career plans. Balancing everything has been difficult; thankfully, writing on this site has been a wonderful respite from my normal obligations.

Frugaling has always been for fun. See, I established this site as a creative outlet, break from academic writing, and source of additional revenue. It was never a charitable writing endeavor; albeit, I wanted it to be for good. In the process of writing about my journey to zero debt, I did pretty well for myself. I hustled and was rewarded for it. I paid off five figures of debt in no time.

Eventually, as the site aged and my debt waned, I started to question my values and decision to advertise. With the release of my new book in August, I thought it might be an opportunity to censor the ads. I took a gamble and deleted them.

In the place of ad revenue, I decided to rely on donations and book sales. It never made up for lost ad revenue, but it made a difference. Without those pesky intrusions, I felt free to talk without shame, fear, or question. Heck, I even wrote some scathingcritiques of advertising since then!

Cleaning up my site from advertising made me feel good. I felt like I was honoring a value to reduce the urge for consumption. Unfortunately, revenue soon petered out. Despite growing traffic to the site, the revenue continued to plummet. What used to be a stable side hustle, which helped me save and earn despite a tiny graduate student income, was now non-existent.

Over October and November, I paid careful attention to the earnings, and now felt pigeonholed. I had railed against ads, and yet the business might be unstable and unsustainable without some extra revenue from visitors. Perhaps I had gone from one extreme to the other too rapidly?

This week, I reached out to other bloggers and friends to talk about this revenue problem. Most all of them recognized the need and importance to earn something for all the writing and extra work. Simultaneously, they seem to empathize with the wonderful ideal of going ad free. I admire people like Joshua Becker, who go without ads and potential revenue. But I entered an unstable level of revenue for Frugaling. Deleting these felt freeing and exhilarating in a new way, but the revenue loss didn’t allow me to save and earn.

Recently, I talked with a blogging friend of mine about this conundrum. I finally expressed the crux of the matter: I have two values, which are precariously unbalanced right now. One states that I should go ad free and resist anything that potentially encourages consumption. The other focuses on the very real need to earn some revenue from what I do here. Despite trying, donation buttons and book sales haven’t filled the gap.

One value is fulfilled while the other wanes. What’s the solution for this imbalance? This puzzle has led to a surprising number of doubts, questions, and nerves. I’ve felt guilty thinking about backtracking and placing the ads back on the site. I’ve felt nasty about engaging in affiliate marketing. And I don’t have time to create a class, campaign, or course that could potentially bring in additional revenue. School must take priority, but Frugaling shall be an integral, secondary part of my life.

For now, I’ve decided to bring back the ads. They’ll be basic Google ads, which won’t distort my voice or manipulate what I decide to promote. These ads aren’t my favorite, but in an effort to strike a balance between making money and reducing consumption, I’m taking the middle path.

Because of this backtrack, I’ve refunded and repaid everyone’s donations, too. Although their support was deeply appreciated over the last two months, I would feel slimy keeping them. As readers of Frugaling, I’d love to know what you think about this decision. Your support and readership is what keeps my site going. Thanks for listening.

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Ads are forcefully injected into our daily lives, without permission or explicit consent. We didn’t explicitly sign up for them and never agreed to the terms. And yet, we live alongside these glossy pages, commercials, and billboards every day.

They are ubiquitous. Ads are everywhere from our public schools to smartphones. Frankly, it’s easy to get fed up with the onslaught. To crave peace, tranquility, and minimalism is only natural. People are forcibly removing ads from view and saying “enough is enough.”

Marketers have noticed the resistance among consumers. Their old methods don’t seem to work. Print is dying, television is increasingly losing out to on-demand, and people are using ad blockers for the Internet. In response, they’re changing their methods, mediums, and messages. They’ve cleared the drawing board and developed new ways to attract us.

For marketers, the times are a changing. Consumers are living in this strange epoch of technology, social networking, and the “sharing economy.” Growing numbers of people are eschewing ownership, as technology has minimized our book cases and empowered us to pool resources. Selling us products has become a difficult proposition: what will we buy?

Amidst changing demographics, economic interests, and consumer preferences, growing numbers of companies are creating inspirational, aspirational, and ethically driven advertising. They know that if they inspire, touch, and/or move us we’ll share, tweet, fave, and like. The strategy is complex, but if advertisers can appeal to causes you believe in, you’ll be more likely to spread the word. As a bonus, articles and ads that are shared by consumers aren’t tagged with “advertisement” or “sponsored;” instead, they sneak behind the consumer wall and get peers to market to each other.

Even people who believe in anti-consumption, frugality, and simple living are being psychologically duped into sharing advertisements. And we seem to be accepting that our friends’ updates and tweets now include these reminders to buy, buy, buy. We are volitionally advertising to those we love most.

By now you might be looking for some examples. Most recently, REI created a massive social networking ad campaign centered on boycotting Black Friday. USAToday’s Hadley Malcolm wrote, “In an unprecedented move for the modern-day holiday shopping season, REI’s 143 stores will be closed the day after Thanksgiving.” REI even inspired a creative hashtag: #OptOutside. How fun! This outdoor and recreational company’s value driven campaign appeals directly to those who hate the co-opting and consumerism of that day.

Malcolm’s article has been shared over 200,000 on Facebook alone. That’s one article for the company’s decision. Many in the simple living community have written about the decision – highlighting how it meets their values. It’s been shared all over Twitter.

REI is bucking a trend, but it’s not the first company to say they’re not supportive of post-Thanksgiving mass shopping. Last year, Patagonia published ads that said, “Don’t buy this jacket” in regards to Cyber Monday (the week after Thanksgiving). Again, the anti-consumptive ads were shared massively. It was a viral success — just like this year’s ads.

After Patagonia’s advertising campaign, they received huge press attention and their sales skyrocketed. It worked. REI’s advertisements have already worked, too.

They’ll reduce sales for one day: Black Friday. And then, the sales will greatly increase as those remember REI meets their values. To the company, money is money – doesn’t matter if it comes on Friday or next week.

Ultimately, it’s our power not to share. Companies know how to captivate us with their messages – even if they say “Don’t buy me.” We can’t help but respect these values and click tweet. In this economy, we choose what brands, products, and companies win. The responsibility is ours, but we needn’t do the work for them.

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It’s been nearly a month since I deleted all the ads from my site. Instead of pasting targeted distractions to my readers, I opted for simplicity. If readers wanted to support me, they could buy my book, donate, or share my work. Since then, an explosive dialogue surrounding the ethics and use of ad blockers has ensued. I decided to share my two cents on advertisers, marketing, and the “death of the web.”

Advertisers want us to believe that their commercials and banner ads inform us. They need us to consider their arguments, and think we’re making rational decisions in response. And they implant a picture of perfection – of what life could look like – with their products.

We’re supposed accept this bombardment of stimuli as the cost of accessing and reading websites. Go to The New York Times, and a slurry of ads feast over your metadata to predict what you might purchase next and serve up a healthy dose of consumerism. Behind the scenes, trackers surreptitiously soak up your browsing history, location, and personal data.

This is the cost of being a content consumer in the 21st century, and for years, we’ve accepted it. Until recently, when the entire Internet exploded in euphoria and vitriol over Apple’s new mobile operating system (iOS). It’s most recent update empowered users to install “content blockers,” which would effectively eliminate advertisements in the mobile browser.

As the browsing experience improves, profit revenue decreases. It’s a perfect inverse correlation. The web feels calmer without ads. I don’t have to be defensive and avert my eyes.

Over the last few weeks, publishers worldwide have clambered to their keyboards, predicting apocalypses. The Verge conducted a poll of its users, which found that 78% said “Yes” they will use an ad blocker. Without ad revenue, how will they survive?! If everyone turns off the ads, how will companies make money?

Publishers are already predicting that companies will cease to exist. One quote from PC Mag highlights the hyperbolic language: “With this move, users will eventually wonder why their favorite website died before finding another set of content to plunder.” Supposedly, a content pirate will kill sites left and right because of their ad blocker use.

Wired highlighted the plight of Google’s profits in an almost sympathetic tone: “Google depends almost entirely on ads for revenue. By one estimate, the giant may be losing billions of dollars from these kind of browser blocking extensions.” What will the massive, multinational corporation do without its record-breaking ad revenue?

Adding to the publisher outcries is The Verge’s Nilay Patel, who said ad blockers could mean the “Death of the web.” Then he added that “taking money and attention away from the web means that web innovation will slow to a crawl.” Wow! Death, as in ceasing to exist. That’s pretty extreme, right? Without ads, your computer literally would cease to surf – browsers would be pointless.

The problem with all this fear mongering is that it’s flawed. The web was not invented by corporate interests; rather, it was a governmental invention that became a public good. Advertising wasn’t part of the equation. Profit wasn’t the sole motivator to those who innovated in the early days of the Internet.

Even today, much of the web exists because of volunteers, governments, and public grants. Open source projects like Wikipedia, Ubuntu, and Firefox are perfect examples of how third-party ads needn’t be the sole source of innovation or income.

Interestingly, in this ad-infested web, major publishers have grown to bloated proportions. Many recycle other news outlets’ content and repackage it as their own. Companies like The Verge, Wired, and PC Mag occasionally publish top-notch journalistic pieces, but they’re most often caught up in quasi-advertisement “product reviews” and republishing. It’s lazy work to draw eyeballs, not critical thinking. To lose these companies would be awful, as I must admit I enjoy them, but we’d move on.

We’ve come to a crossroads as publishers and consumers. Should we put up with ads or use ad blockers? Should we accept distraction or simplicity? Should we keep the status quo or demand an alternative?

Some suggest paywalls, which force readers to subscribe for content. I can guarantee that circulation will drop immensely and many won’t pay (here’s looking at one of them). If it’s news, it’ll be printed somewhere else in a non-subscription form. And if it’s not reprinted, then it can’t be that important, can it? So, that idea’s gone.

Others promote the concept of paid articles. Many publishers have already experimented with advertiser-paid articles such as The New York Times and The Verge. Instead of reading a non-biased, semi-objective piece of journalism, readers have the distinct privilege of reading a lengthy advertisement. Again, everyone loses if the web destroys objectivity in journalism.

We live at a time of immense progress; ironically, technology is contending with these advances. Ad blockers censor and clean the web of the dirty bits. You no longer need to continually feel compelled to buy, buy, buy. Nor do pages deliver 20, 30, or 40+ trackers to your computer.

The rationale is clear: the web is better when it’s simpler. But questions remain about the sustainability of any company once their ad revenue dries up.

Here’s where I must be slightly callous. Frankly, capitalism is said to be flexible and adaptive. The invisible hand is supposed to morph and move with demand. There are companies constantly winning and losing in this roulette wheel of life – not everyone wins all the time. The companies that can successfully adapt to changing market forces… They’re the winners in this game.

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There are constant pressures to spend – especially as a twentysomething. Marketing companies have perfected the appeal to youthfulness and adventure. And sometimes people get trapped in façades of the “good life.” They buy expensive cocktails, go to clubs, and spend til the only thing that’s dry is their wallet.

I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t sound fun from time to time. It’s a blast getting to hang out with friends, blow off some steam, and recognize that life is finite. Let’s have fun when we can and spend in the moment. For a few moments we can pretend like the financial pressures of student loans, income inequality, and variable credit debt don’t exist. When we swipe, the worries disappear.

The entire foundation was on the premise of partying hard, networking, and enjoying life when you can. Instead of saving money or contributing to a 401k, Ms. Martin advocated for being on the edge and nearly penniless.

She explained that you needn’t worry about saving at this time because later in life you’ll be making more. With great simplicity, a friend of Lauren’s says, “Don’t save money. Make more money.” From then on, she’s awakened to the idea that buying expensive items is her right and obligation. When she turns 40 and looks back on her twenties, she feels confident that it will all be money well spent.

Her article wraps up with 7 of the most egregious statements I’ve read about finances:

Giving Lauren the benefit of the doubt, her words can almost be read as aspirational and inspirational. You might think, “Yes, I’m going to live it up while I can and make a name for myself. I’m going to show everyone who I am. Watch out world!” But read them again, and you’ll begin to notice privilege, ignorance, selfishness, and myopia.

Perhaps most egregious of all her recommendations is the age-old line, “When you die, you can’t take your money with you.” The adage is right, when you’re dead, you’re all dead. Unfortunately, this author is missing many of the reasonable reasons to save. By socking away cash when you’re young, you’ll be better prepared for uncertain medical complications, job loss, and anything life throws at you. But even more, death brings an opportunity to give back. I intend to give what I can to charities and offer the rest to family. If, instead, I spent it all on drinks in my twenties, I’d have nothing for either.

The second line I want to focus in on is, “When you’re too worried about your bank statement, you’re not making your own.” Presumably, Lauren’s suggesting you must spend money to make a name for yourself. Whether it’s the expensive clothing she purchases or fanciful “networking” opportunities at restaurants, she seems to know how to make her own statement.

But making a statement is complex in a society bombarded with advertising. Being unique requires constant reanalysis of culture. To be countercultural and your own person is actually difficult when certain brands aim to sell to that exact demographic. The good news is that statements needn’t cost anything. I can make a statement by saving, and that might be the most powerful of all.

The Internet is vast and diverse. Finding voices that encourage wanton spending is easy. What took me by alarm and spurred a response was two-fold. First, the article was published on a fairly popular news and opinion website. Second, the article had been shared over 35,000 times in two days. Lauren hit on the pulse of a large group of twentysomethings. Her article explicitly supported spendthrift ways. Anyone that needed an excuse to empty their wallets could find solace in her words.

We’re constantly at a precipice between spending and saving. Each day we are confronted with this choice. We can spend our savings away in a flash of 20s, or save for the many moments that life brings. To break away from the herd mentality and save can be challenging, but the choice is ours.